


pissed on, not pissed off

by daysanddaysanddays



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Aftercare, D/s undertones, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Watersports, well as much fluff as a fic that's mostly about piss can be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:19:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9369734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daysanddaysanddays/pseuds/daysanddaysanddays
Summary: It doesn't take long for Patrick to figure out why Pete was so happy this morning.





	

Pete looks especially chipper this morning when they leave for the studio, but Patrick doesn't think much of it. His brain is still processing the coffee he'd just had and, knowing Pete, his excitement could easily just be caused by someone posting some good Game of Thrones meta. 

"Excited for the day, Rickster?" Pete asks as they drive.

Patrick just leans his head against the passenger window and says, "Ask me again when the coffee's kicked in."

Patrick's going hatless today, but he still isn't expecting it when Pete leans over and ruffles his hair. He turns to glare at Pete, but it's half hearted at best, and completely fades when he sees how large Pete's smile is.

There are still moments when Patrick will just look at Pete and it will hit him all over again, just how beautiful Pete Wentz is, that Pete's his boyfriend, that Pete loves him, that Patrick is allowed to love him in return after years of thinking his silly crush was unrequited. They've been dating for a little over a year, now, but these moments still catch Patrick off guard. Pete Wentz is so fucking beautiful, and he's all Patrick's.

They stop at a red light and Pete looks over at him, noting the slight smile on his face. "What's got you so happy? The coffee finally kicking in?"

Patrick shakes his head. "Love you," he says instead of responding, watching Pete's already large grin get even bigger. 

"You're a sappy idiot," Pete says, then, "Love you too."

Pete leans over and gives Patrick a quick peck on the cheek before the light changes, and Patrick blushes. Maybe Pete had been onto something earlier with his chipper attitude; today is already looking up.

~~

It doesn't take long for Patrick to figure out why Pete was so happy this morning.

Patrick was suspicious when Pete bought three water bottles from the vending machine, but he didn't want to get his hopes up. It could just be nothing. 

Joe snorted when he saw, and said, "Pete, man, if this is you trying to get out of something by taking a million bathroom breaks, that won't work _again_."

"Nah, that's not it," Pete said. "Don't worry, I don't plan on taking any bathroom breaks at all. Just thirsty."

Joe rolled his eyes and turned away, not noticing the flush that had suddenly overtaken Patrick's face. 

Patrick ducked his head, but not before noticing the smirk Pete threw in his direction. Patrick flushed more. Today was going to be a long day.

~~

Patrick thinks that maybe Pete made a mistake showing his cards so early, because now it's all Patrick can think about. It's been a while since they last did it, and Patrick had been trying to gather up the courage to ask for it again soon. As always, though, Pete knows him, and so here they are.

It's not something they usually do, but that's part of what makes it so good. Patrick remembers how nervous he had been, telling Pete about this, sure that Pete would be disgusted and break up with him immediately. He knew, logically, that Pete would never abandon him that way, but it was still so anxiety inducing that Patrick almost threw up a few times. It's not exactly polite conversation to go to your boyfriend and ask him to take control for a little bit and piss all over you, but the thing is, Patrick does need it. He doesn't know why it gets to him the way it does, but he never has better orgasms than when they do this.

Only after the first few times did Pete start to take the initiative. All in all, over the year and a half they've been dating they've probably only done this seven or eight times, but Patrick's just grateful Pete is willing to do this at all. It's unfair, he knows, but he's not sure _he'd_ be able to do it if their positions were reversed. Patrick lets Pete decide when it happens, not wanting to push too far, but not knowing has turned out to be a part of this that Patrick never knew he'd like so much.

Pete knows he's got Patrick in the palm of his hand. It's clear in the exaggerated manner he's going about things, sending looks he probably thinks are subtle toward Patrick, looks which make Patrick regret his decision to not wear a hat today. He feels exposed even though he knows that there's no way Joe, Andy, or any of the studio techs, for that matter, could possibly know. But this is as much a part of it as the main event: the arousal at the possibility that any of them _could_ figure it out, even if it's not likely; the anticipation as they go through hours and hours of studio time; Pete's light touches and heated glances. Patrick's been half hard since he figured it out, and has only been able to keep himself at half by thinking of his fifth grade Math teacher, a gross old man named Mr. Jellico. 

When Joe notices, toward the end of the day, that all three of the water bottles Pete bought are empty, he says, "Fuck, Pete, you know I was kidding when I told you you couldn't take any bathroom breaks today."

"And I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't planning on taking any," Pete responds. He's not looking at Patrick, not exactly, but Patrick still knows that everything Pete is saying is for his benefit.

"Dude, how have you not pissed your pants already?" Joe asks.

Pete shrugs, a sly smile on his face. Patrick can't watch anymore, not without his cock fully hardening, so he turns away, but he still hears Pete's response of, "Magic." 

Patrick is really concentrating on the image of the large, brown mole that had adorned Mr. Jellico's forehead, so he doesn't hear Pete approach him, and jumps when Pete puts a hand on his shoulder.

"You look kind of out of it," he says, and it's good acting. The tone seems genuine enough, but Patrick knows better. "Everything okay?"

Patrick doesn't even know how to respond, just clears his throat once and says, "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

"Good," Pete says, giving Patrick's shoulder a squeeze, kneading a little bit. After a short pause, where neither of them say anything, Pete adds, "Only an hour left in the day, 'Trick. You've been so good so far. Just hold on a while longer."

It's a cross between genuine praise and condescension, and all of Patrick's efforts to stay at half mast halt as he instantly hardens further, arousal flooding through him. Pete always knows just which buttons to hit and when, even when Patrick isn't sure what he wants. He doesn't know how he's going to make it through the next hour. Not even Mr. Jellico's mole is enough to tamp down his erection now.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he says, not even attempting to adjust himself, just hoping that everyone's too busy looking elsewhere to notice.

Pete tugs on his arm just as he's slipping away. "Don't you dare jack off in there, Patrick," he says, voice low. Patrick feels another wave of arousal run through him, and he shivers. 

Patrick nods -- not that he was planning to, anyways -- and slips out the door and into the hallway.

Once he gets to the bathroom, he splashes himself with cold water a few times, determinedly thinking of anything besides Pete. His cock softens enough that it's only noticeable if you're really looking for it, and when he's certain he looks normal enough, he heads back to the studio.

~~

The drive home is excruciating. L.A. traffic is hell as usual, and it's made worse by the fact that Pete bought another water bottle on his way out that he keeps taking little sips out of, staring at Patrick as he does so. Patrick gave up trying to curb his erection as soon as they were alone in the car, so he's hard as fuck. The outline of his cock would be evident to anyone who even glances his way, which only makes him harder.

It's another forty five minutes before they make it home, and Patrick is so turned on he feels as though he's about to burst. He doesn't run up the path and throw open the door like he wants to, waiting for Pete as he slowly gathers his things and makes his way to the door. 

As soon as Pete opens the door, though, all bets are off. He doesn't even wait for Pete to close to door completely before he falls down to his knees right there in the entryway, the hardwood floor probably bruising him but he really could not care less right now. He needs it right now.

Pete strips off his jacket facing away from Patrick before turning around. Patrick doesn't say anything, just looks. 

Pete reaches out a hand and cups Patrick's cheek. "Eager, are we?"

When Patrick replies in the affirmative, Pete smiles. It's not like his usual smiles. Pete looks like the cat that got the canary. "Good," he says. "I like you that way." Once more, the combination of the praise and the patronizing tone sends spike of arousal through him. Patrick doesn't think he's ever been this hard in his life.

Pete takes his hand off of Patrick's cheek with something that's too hard to be a pat but too light to be a slap. Either way, it goes straight to Patrick's dick.

"Put your arms behind your back, and look at me," Pete says, and Patrick does, watches as Pete unbuckles his belt and throws it on the ground behind him. Pete proceeds to unbutton and unzip his jeans, then grasps both his pants and his boxers and pulls them down to his mid thigh, just enough that his cock can be revealed, half hard. Pete knows Patrick has a thing for the times when Pete doesn't fully undress; Patrick's told him so. This time is no different, and Patrick feels his mouth go dry as his lips part a little.

Pete jacks himself slowly, deliberately, looking at Patrick as he does so. Once he's satisfied with the state of his cock, he says, "Tell me you need it, Patrick."

Patrick doesn't hesitate. "I need it," he says, putting as much feeling as he can behind the words.

"What do you need? Tell me what 'it' is, Patrick. I can't give you what you need if you don't tell what it is."

Patrick feels his cheeks flood with color. No matter how many times they've done this, it's always humiliating to articulate it out loud. Nothing will ever be as bad as the first time, but he still wants to duck his head, look away. He only stops himself because Pete told him not to. "I need... I need you to piss on me." Patrick's voice is small and unsteady.

"Really?" Pete asks, raising his eyebrows at Patrick. "I'm not convinced," he says, then repeats the original command. "Tell me you need it."

"I need you to piss on me, Pete," Patrick says, pretty sure that at this point his body must be red all over.

Pete nods, and in lieu of an actual response, says, "Open your mouth, Patrick."

When Patrick obeys, Pete says, "Good boy," smirking at the visible twitch Patrick's dick gives in response to the praise. It's so close that Patrick thinks he might die if it doesn't happen the next second.

Luckily, Pete seems to agree. "Don't stop looking at me, and don't close your mouth," Pete says, clearly waiting for a response.

Patrick says, "Yes, Pete," making sure he remembers to keep his mouth open after he says it.

Pete always aims for his mouth first, and Patrick sees the piss heading toward his mouth just seconds before he feels the bitter, unpleasant taste touch his tongue.

Pete only spends a few seconds on his mouth, navigating upwards to his hair next. Patrick can feel it soaking through his hair and sliding down his cheeks and the back of his neck, and he can't help it, he lets out a moan.

"Look at you," Pete says, redirecting the stream back to Patricks face, making a steady path downward to Patrick's shirt. "Such a slut for my piss."

Patrick groans in agreement as he feels his shirt get damp, sticking to his chest. Pete keeps up a steady stream, making sure that all of Patrick's face is covered. Some of it drips into his eyes, and he has to blink it out, but he doesn't close his eyes. Pete told him to keep looking, so he's going to keep looking.

"God, you're so fucking sexy like this," Pete groans, and Patrick can only moan in response, his mouth still open. "You take it so good, don't you?"

He can feel the piss begin to lessen in force as Pete once more directs it into Patrick's mouth. He knows what's coming next, and he's so fucking eager and turned on he might die. Pete steps forward until the head of his dick is resting in Patrick's mouth, the last of his piss trickling down the back of Patrick's throat before he thrusts in all the way.

"Suck," he says, and Patrick hurries to obey, bobbing his head up and down Pete's dick, moaning when Pete grabs a handful of his newly soaked hair. "God, you're a disgusting little whore, aren't you?" he says, voice fond, and Patrick feels the praise bloom inside him. He keeps sucking Pete's cock, not responding beyond a moan. 

After a few moments, Pete lets go of his hair suddenly and tells Patrick to stop. Patrick does, looking up at Pete and waiting for further instructions. "I'm gonna fucking come on your face," Pete says, jacking himself off more quickly now, and it's not exactly an order, but Patrick holds his face still and his mouth open, knowing how Pete likes him. Pete grunts, his eyes closed in pleasure now, still tugging at his cock. He's so fucking hot, and Patrick loves him so much it hurts sometimes.

He knows Pete's about to come by the breathy noises he begins to make, the ones he always makes when he's close. As Patrick watches, Pete opens his mouth and lets out a groan hotter than anything Patrick has ever heard, and then begins to come. The first bit lands in Patrick's mouth, but he doesn't dare swallow it, instead just keeps mouth open as he waits for the rest of it. The next stripe lands between Patrick's nose and his left eye, the third on his chin, and the last pulse of Pete's come hits the corner of his mouth, some of it seeping in, some of it dripping down his chin.

Pete opens his eyes and looks back down at Patrick, who's sitting still, mouth still open, covered in Pete's piss and cum. He's completely Pete's. Pete's marked him now in the most primal way possible, and Patrick loved it, just as he loves the way Pete's looking at him right now. Patrick's still hard dick is vying for attention, but Patrick ignores it, keeping eye contact with Pete as he takes Patrick in.

"Beautiful," Pete murmurs, crouching down so they're at the same level. When Patrick doesn't respond beyond blushing even further (which, how is that even _possible_ ), Pete tells him to swallow the come that's in his mouth. Patrick does, watching Pete's eyes soften with affection as he does so. Pete wipes his finger around Patrick's face, picking up as much of his cum as possible, before inserting his finger softly into Patrick's mouth.

"Suck," he says, a quiet imitation of the earlier command. Patrick obeys, because of course he does, and he licks Pete's finger clean.

"Good boy," Pete says, his tone still fond.

"You want to come, don't you?" he asks a second later, and Patrick can't say yes fast enough.

"Unbuckle yourself, then," he says, and Patrick scrambles to comply, removing his hands from their clasped position behind his back. 

When he's done, he looks back to Pete, who says, "Take your cock out." Patrick does so eagerly.

Pete runs a finger down the length of Patrick's fully erect cock. "Look at you," he says, wonderingly, lovingly. "All this just because I pissed on you. You're something else, Patrick."

Patrick's about to respond, but Pete leans in and kisses him before he can, deep and hard and with feeling, moving one of his hands to the back of Patrick's neck. The other one he uses to tug on Patrick's dick, murmuring praise between kisses.

Patrick comes in an embarrassingly short amount time, his own come staining his t-shirt and jeans. As soon as he comes, he feels almost boneless. He feels lightheaded and he thinks he's grinning goofily at Pete, but he can't be sure. All he can see is Pete's answering smile, soft and adoring.

"Alright, Patrick, up you get," he says, helping Patrick pull himself to his feet even though all he wants to do is collapse. Pete leads him to the shower and turns the water on, helping Patrick strip out of his clothes as the water warms up. After he's done taking off Patrick's clothes, he moves on to his own, and Patrick can't help but reach out to touch him again. Pete lets him, and then guides Patrick into the shower, standing under the spray with him. 

He lets Patrick lean against him as he shampoos his head, his fingers skilled as they work across Patrick's scalp. Patrick tries to turn around and nearly trips over his own feet, but Pete catches him. 

"What?" Pete says.

"I love you," he says, because if he doesn't he just might burst with it.

"Love you too," Pete responds, then: "Do you think you can stand on your own?"

Patrick pouts. "You're leaving me?"

"You know I have to clean up before it dries up and gets sticky," Pete says, and Patrick knows it's true -- believe it or not, even on hardwood, piss is a bitch to clean -- but he still protests.

"You don't _have_ to," Patrick says.

"Hey, it's not my fault you have a messy kink. This one's on you, Trick," he responds, and Patrick's mouth turns down as he concedes the point.

"Okay," he says. "Can you at least wait until I'm out of the shower?"

Pete says sure, and goes back to massaging Patrick's scalp. He shuts the water off a few minutes after that, passing Patrick a clean towel to use. "Go get dressed," he says. "I'll be back before you know it." Patrick watches as he scoops up both of their dirty clothes, and heads out the door.

Patrick puts on a new tshirt and his favorite pair of sweatpants -- he's sure as hell not going out tonight, so comfortable pants are a must. He's just drying his hair a little bit with the towel when he hears the washing machine come to life. He knows this means that Pete is almost back.

Sure enough, Pete's back in the bedroom again a few seconds after that. He, too, is wearing sweatpants, sans any top, and he approaches Patrick with a small smile. "You doin' okay?"

"More than," Patrick says, smiling as he presses a kiss to Pete's lips. 

"I was thinking we could order some Chinese, and then watch a movie together."

"Sounds perfect," Patrick says, and means it.

An hour later, they're curled up on the couch, Patrick encased in Pete's arms, take out boxes scattered around the table. Pete is kissing the top of Patrick's head much more than is strictly necessary, but Patrick doesn't mind. Just the opposite, in fact.

After a second's thought, he picks up the remote and pauses the movie. Pete looks at him questioningly and Patrick clears his throat. "I just, ah," he says, tripping over what he wants to say. "I want to say thank you."

He can tell Pete's about to ask what for, so he powers on. "I know this has never really been your thing or something you're especially into or whatever, so thank you for doing it for me. I appreciate it."

Pete smiles at him. "Dude, it makes you happy _and_ it turned out to be hot as fuck. Don't thank me. I enjoy it too."

Patrick leans his head back into Pete's neck and presses play on the movie again. "Still," he says. "Thank you."

Pete kisses his temple, and turns his attention back to the TV.

**Author's Note:**

> you ever been so ashamed of writing something you make an entirely new ao3 account?? yup
> 
> i wrote this in one sitting and didn't look it over before posting so please lmk if there are any typos!!! also lol if this seems familiar it's because this idea started as an anonymous ask i sent into a sin blog like a year ago and finally got around to writing so. also also how tf did this idea end up being over 3000 words i hate myself
> 
> anyways peace love piss kinks amirite


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